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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633855">Skin tastes like sea salt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington'>Catharrington</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Up, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bisexual Steve Harrington, First Date, First Meeting, Gay Billy Hargrove, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:40:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>California is a great place to get lost in. Steve finds himself alone wandering through the narrow streets. His mom’s got better things to do than spend time with him. Steve’s got a curious itch under his skin. And Adonis’ got the best strip tease this side of the golden gates.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Skin tastes like sea salt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a prompt request on tumblr! My lovely Highnon asked for stripper!Billy and who am I to decline a good time ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His mother’s heels clicked across the wood of the hotel lobby over and over again. Back and forth, up and down, she stepped up to the counter just to continue the clicking with her French tipped fake nails.</p><p>“I have nothing on my schedule, I’ll be there. Don’t- no, listen to me! Don’t touch anything until I get there!” She says rapid fire into her phone. A huge block of a plastic thing that’s been attached to her ear ever since the flight landed.</p><p>Steve stood at her arm. A small smile on his face. He knew the next line in this play by heart.</p><p>“Honey, I’ve got to head into work. So sorry. Don’t wait up for me.” And it’s word for word. The same line she’s said for years.</p><p>“Sure, mom,” he says back with a sweet slur to his words. She pats his cheek before leaving. Steve follows the cart pushed by one of the hotel lobby workers up to their room.</p><p>They pushed the guided cart up to the hallway, stopping at the waxy dark wood door. Steve politely smiled at the worker as they collected the heavy suitcases off the bottom. Inside, the suite is sprawling and ridiculous in its space. They dump the bags in a pile by a couch.</p><p>The man turned as he finished, leering at him, his eyes dragging over Steve’s buttoned up shirt he had left open for comfort while on his flight. Steve slipped a small bill from his wallet and passed it over. Made the mans eyes sparkle as their fingers brushed together.</p><p>The door slid closed behind him. Leaving Steve alone in the huge hotel room. But not for long. He had an idea.</p><p>California was a big place, Steve tightened his hands into fists as he walked across the sidewalk at an intersection. Shoving them into his jacket pockets as he walked. He was wearing a cotton zip up hoodie and a part of him wanted to pull up the hood to cover his face. But a larger part of him, the petty part, decided not to.</p><p>Over his head the fading night sky lit up with neon lights. One in particular spelling out exactly where he wanted to go, where he needed to go.</p><p>Because the word bullshit is still ringing though his head after half a year of being dumped by the love of his life at a dumb high school party. He’s graduated now, legal; and he is so tired of pretending. So tired of acting like he doesn’t have messed up feelings, of acting like he’s struggling the same as everyone else.</p><p>Flashing his ID at the door he slips in quietly, sticking to the sticky walls as he crawls along to the main sitting area. The club isn’t large. He was expecting it to be a littler bigger, honestly, in his head. But it’s comfortable in the way it’s shaped. Tables sporadic around dark tiled floor and three stages, well really one stage shaped like the number three. Each end dotted with a shiny silver pole.</p><p>Steve takes off his jacket and balls it up in his hands. Puts it on the top of one small table closer to the back than he would have preferred, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.</p><p>Around the stage people are jumping in their chairs like they want to come out of them. A mix of people, mostly girls in tight groups, but there are plenty of men waiting for the show. The lights dim as if on cue to Steve sitting down, turning their white spotlights down to reflect off the glossy stage top. Clicking slightly as they change to hues of oranges and purples.</p><p>One shaft of blue light sweeps over the walls before it halts to a stop. Right across where the back of the stage opens. Right across a man standing there. An announcer screeched his name over the intercom and Steve just barely hears it: Adonis. And that’s the most pretentious thing Steve’s heard all day. And he’s been with his mother and father; so that tells you something.</p><p>But, as the blue light washes over him Steve makes out his get up: a Hawaiian shirt matched with red swim trunks, gold colored skin that might be covered in tanning oil, and the prettiest head of bouncing textured curls Steve’s ever seen. Adonis steps up to the middle of the stage, his body muscular and outlined with the glow, as a guitar rift builds softly to ear ringing loud, Steve starts to think the name fits. At least, the song fits.</p><p>
  <em>Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see,</em>
</p><p>The crowd instantly launches to their feet as the throaty voice of Foreigner starts up. Hands reaching across the stage as Adonis simply stands there, listening to the music, licking his lips.</p><p>
  <em>I got a fever of a hundred and three,</em>
</p><p>The well worn down speakers of the shitty club makes the drums so loud on Steve’s ears. He fists his hands in his balled up jacket.</p><p>
  <em>Come on baby, do you do more than dance?</em>
</p><p>Adonis finally moves, lazy as if he can’t even be bothered to play to the beat of the song, he grabs the colorful collar of his shirt and rips it right down the middle. Buttons snapping and flicking across the stage. Steve thinks he heard them click as they fell. He knows he didn’t turn his head away to follow them.</p><p>
  <em>I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded, </em>
</p><p>Each line met with a roll from those hips, now exposed for the salivating at the mouth crowd to see. Adonis uses the edges of his shirt to slide over his shoulders. Moves left to right with the action. His abdomen following every time, making his muscles flex and show off his cut six-pac abs, the orange light seems to catch each swell and reflect off his skin.</p><p>The shirt drops to the stage, just as Steve’s jaw drops open. Adonis walks forward to one pair of hands flapping in the air, some crisp dollar bills offered up. He picks them easy, one by one, leering at the woman holding them as if he were doing her a favor taking her money. And god, he was.</p><p>Steve feels silly for not bringing any money of his own, but hopefully he’s too far away from the stage to interact. Hopefully he’s just at the right point to simply watch as Adonis prances around the stage. Steve doesn’t want to get his hopes up.</p><p>
  <em>You don't have to read my mind, to know what I have in mind,</em>
</p><p>The song plays on as Adonis finds a pole, on the edge of the stage closest to Steve of course, close enough to see the way those blue eyes glitter with danger as he gives one half assed spin before stopping.</p><p>The crowd seems to be in on it quicker than Steve is, they are clapping even before Adonis wraps his big, meaty hands into the red fabric of his swim shorts. A couple people let out shrill screams as the shorts come off, rips apart at the sides, and drop to the ground.</p><p>
  <em>Honey you oughta know,</em>
</p><p>Adonis fills out a Speedo too well for Steve’s liking. There is nothing left to the imagination. Steve’s mouth drys up as he follows the curve of Adonis’ half hard cock in the skimpy red fabric. Wraps thickly over his hip. Stops just before the hem. Steve bites down on the cotton of his hoodie to stop a moan.</p><p>
  <em>Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line, I wanna know what you're doin' after the show,</em>
</p><p>Adonis wraps his hands back around the pole, pulling at it to lift himself up. Mirroring doing a pull up, his biceps straining under his tanned skin with the effort. The tanning oil catching the spotlights. While his face stays so lazy, so cocky.</p><p>He lets his body drop to the floor slowly, dragging his hand down the pole, dragging the front of his speedo across the pole as well so his cock shifts with the movement. His thighs are thick and hairy and their muscles bunch as he kneels down.</p><p>
  <em>Now it's up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous,</em>
</p><p>There’s a groan; maybe it’s from Steve, and a sharp whistle in the club as Adonis drops to his knees and starts to crawl. He smiles wide, unlike the rest of the show, this one a large wolffish thing that makes his teeth look sharp. They glow under the blue light still obediently following him. So do his eyes as he scans around the crowd.</p><p>For a second, his eyes meet Steve’s. Those pretty blue eyes find his alone nested in the very back. At a table by himself. Steve opens his mouth to drop his jacket he’s still embarrassingly chewing on. Then that wolf’s grin opens up to let a pink tongue slide out around his cherry red lips. Flicking over the sensitive muscle mean-like, getting it sloppy wet, keeping his eyes on Steve.</p><p>Then, Adonis gives a wink.</p><p>
  <em>Just me and you, I'll show you lovin' like you never knew,</em>
</p><p>Steve wants to get up and run out of the club. He wants to take his jacket and smother himself with it. Instead, he closes his mouth and watches wide eyed. Takes whatever Adonis gives him.</p><p>
  <em>That's why, I'm hot blooded, check it and see,</em>
</p><p>There’s a party of woman to the left and right, must be drunk out of their minds because they sound like cats howling as Adonis gets close to them.</p><p>But he closes in on someone else, a man right in the front of the stage, choppy sandy colored hair and an equally leering smile. He’s got a pair of brown colored aviator glasses on that Adonis makes quick work of snatching off his face.<br/>The man doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps his hands up in the air as Adonis perches the glasses on his nose and smiles down.</p><p>
  <em>I feel a fever burning inside me,</em>
</p><p>Adonis plays in the space between the man’s arms he shifts and hops to his feet as skillfully as someone lifting out the ocean and onto a surf board. Steve watches as he even holds his arms out to steady himself, looking around to find the best wave to catch.</p><p>
  <em>Come on baby, do you do more than dance?</em>
</p><p>Then he’s smirking again, leering again, and he slowly drops back down to his knees. Right in front of this sand colored hair guy, he gets down on his knees and leans backwards so his palms lay flat on the stage. Adonis thrusts once, draws a moan from the audience like a hive mind. His body is taught and fucking delicious looking. His thighs flexing with the way he holds his hips in the air. He gives another thrust. Pointed right at the crowd’s face.</p><p>
  <em>I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded,</em>
</p><p>The drums are smashing against the speakers with their noise. Adonis effortlessly finds the rhythm of the song and matches his hips to each smash of the sticks. Again and again; Steve knows it’s him making the noise this time when he whimpers out. Clutching onto the soft cotton of his jacket for dear life.</p><p>
  <em>Hot blooded, I'm a little bit high,</em>
</p><p>Adonis thrusts, his hard cock bouncing in his tight red speedo.</p><p>
  <em>Hot blooded, you're a little bit shy,</em>
</p><p>Steve can feel his own dripping pre cum down his leg inside his clean dress slacks.</p><p>
  <em>Hot blooded, you're making me sing,</em>
</p><p>Adonis throws his head back and laughs as the sandy haired guy leans forward to slip money into the hem of his speedo.</p><p>
  <em>Hot blooded, for your sweet, sweet thing,</em>
</p><p>The music flairs out and the audience rises with it. Adonis lets one hard hip thrust bring him back to his feet. His chest is heaving, his curved pecs and the bushel of blond hair pretty with sweat that glitters in the stage lights. He spins his face around so everyone can see his smirk.</p><p>So Steve can see his smirk. They meet eyes again. As if Adonis was searching around just for him. Those thick tanned fingers reach up slowly and take off the aviator glasses. Slowly, his blue eyes blink under the sunset colored lights.</p><p>Steve gulps as he watches. Adonis disappears with the music. The stage lights turning downwards and letting it wash in a darkness that takes all the fun away. There’s a steady groan of disappointment at the end of it. But more so there are cheers and applause for the show.</p><p>Steve lets out a breath he doesn’t remember holding. He feels too uncomfortable sitting with a boner poking him. So he stands up, puts his jacket at his hips to hide it, and makes his way out the front door of the club.</p><p>Outside the air is refreshing but it smells bad. The alley next to the club is dark and secret, the perfect place for Steve to slink before he puts his coat back on.</p><p>He wants to palm himself through his pants, wants to pull out his cock and rub one off right here. He could, that sinfully hot body still fresh in his mind, that tanned skin would look so perfect with his white cum shot all over it, but Steve knows it’s dangerous. He’s feet away from the bouncer at the door.</p><p>Steve takes a cigarette out his pocket and lights one up. Sucking the shaft down hard. Tries not to pretend it’s anything else.</p><p>He doesn’t know how long he’s standing there. Feels like minutes. Feels like hours. He hears people come and go, songs vibrate the wall behind him. But Steve stays leaned. Doesn’t want to head back to the empty hotel room yet. He closes his eyes and takes a drag of his sixth smoke that night, replays the performance of Adonis in his mind.</p><p>How pretentious was that name?</p><p>“Hey?” A husky voice calls out to him.</p><p>Steve sucks in a breath of smoke from the shock before he turns around. And then he nearly chokes on it.</p><p>“Can I bum one?” Adonis asks. Stepping up from the other side of the alley, from the back of the club, and smiles.</p><p>Steve can recognize him. Those sea salt curls tight along the top of his head and coiling down the nape of his neck. Now they are draped over a leather jacket that fits him snuggly. Not as snug as his denim jeans that mold to his thighs like a second skin.</p><p>Steve’s mouth is dry. He nods, nervously fishes another smoke out to offer it up. Then he realizes he doesn’t have any left.</p><p>“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I don’t-,” he stutters. Crushing the empty pack in his hands. Then Steve turns to offer his half smoked cigarette.</p><p>“Wanna take a drag?” That makes the other laugh. Not the same type of cruel laughter he used on stage. When another guys hands were close enough to rub his dick through the thin layer of swim suit he was wearing. No, this was gentle. This was a secret in a back alley.</p><p>“Sure,” Adonis steps up close, takes the cigarette from Steve’s trembling fingers, places it between his own plush lips, and says, “names Billy.”</p><p>Steve watches him as Billy takes a long drag, sucking the smoke into his lungs, before letting it exhale through his nose. “I’m Steve.”</p><p>“Nice to know ya, Stevie,” Billy drawls out his name. He doesn’t offer the smoke back.</p><p>Steve’s mind is racing with what to say. Does he compliment Billy on a good job, does he ask why his stripper persona is a surfer jerk, does that mean he actually knows how to surf, and why does he think Adonis is a good name, that’s like the worst name. But instead Steve locks his mouth shut. His hands writhing in his jacket pockets.</p><p>Adonis keeps his eyes on him. Those blue eyes not as bright as they were on stage but now, tucked away from those lights and eyes, just them two and street lights flickering above, Steve can see the swirls of green inside his eyes. Breathtaking colors swirling like waves, like shades of paints being mixed together by an artist on a canvas.</p><p>Steve gulped. Adonis- no, fuck, Billy was wearing a pretty gold chain that he didn’t have on during the performance. And a tight to his ear lobe gold hoop. He was casual, and calm, the storm still churning under his soft leather jacket and acrylic eyes.</p><p>He was a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. It reminded Steve of back home. Of hiding who he is. Of having one face for the world and the other for yourself.</p><p>Steve sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he mulled it all over. Billy followed the action with his eyes.</p><p>“Wanna get some coffee?” Steve asked.</p><p>Billy was sucking on the last bit of his smoke. Steve’s smoke. The cherry at the tip burning away to ash. He shrugged, flicked the butt away, then lifted up his jacket sleeve to check his watch. “It’s 4 in the morning, gonna be 5 soon. Pretty boy like you don’t need to get any beauty rest?”</p><p>Steve smirked, preening under the endearment always casually slipping from Billy’s lips. “Sounds like the perfect time for coffee to me. Besides, a cup of coffee with you is a much nicer dream than sleeping could ever create.”</p><p>“Damn,” Billy breathes out, his tongue poking the edges of his mouth. “You know a place, got a plan for this dream?” he asks, voice equal parts humored and sultry.</p><p>Steve shrugs. His cheeks growing a little color as he considers just how much he doesn’t hand a plan. Just how much he’s thinking off the top of his stupid fluffy head of hair. “I’m from out of town.” He offers dumbly.</p><p>“Figured you might know a place?” Steve winces as he says it. Knows how pathetic he sounds, how desperate.</p><p>He shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t have been loitering around and asking about coffee dates. Billy is a stripper, not a call boy. He has every right to be looking at Steve like he’s about to burst into laughter. Steve deserves it for trying to flirt like he would a girl back home.</p><p>“Actually, I do know a place. And it’s pretty close. Makes a great cup of coffee.” Billy says it all fast and easy. Waves rolling into shore and back out.</p><p>Steve feels like he was flinching back from a blow. He blinks one eye open to make sure he ain’t about to get two for flinching. “You do?” He asks.</p><p>Billy nods his pretty head of curls behind Steve. He turns over his shoulder in time to see a neon sign lighting up in a window across the street. Cafe, fresh brewed. Open.</p><p>Then Billy’s pushing past him to lead the way, one of this hands brush against Steve’s chest. Thick fingers take one of his hoodies draw strings and pull. Teasingly, lightly, just to get Steve’s eyes back on him. Billy has another piece of jewelry, a ring on his middle finger. Steve’s mouth waters.</p><p>“You paying for this dream date, pretty boy?” Billy asks. Walking across the street with Steve hot on his heels.</p><p>“Anything you could want, say it and it’s yours,” Steve groans without thinking.</p><p>Billy opens the cafe door with a hydraulic hiss. The bell jingles over head. Steve feels like an angel must just have gotten their wings.</p><p>“Let’s just start with a mocha frappe, Steve.”</p>
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